Fateful Encounter
by jaytheperson
Summary: One-shot story that extends upon the duel between Yasuo and his older brother, Yone. A bit of blood and fantasy violence, nothing much.


"Brother… why do you point your blade at me? Can we not just talk this out?" While he said that, his own hand moved to clutch his blade as well, slowly drawing his own. The winds blew silently through the trees of the broken grasslands, gathering up leaves at their feet and howling through their ears. The tongue that he spoke was harsh – a thick dialect of Ionian that was aggressive yet still merciful and peaceful. But he knew that words were not the way out of this. Only through a clash of blades could this dispute be settled.

"Because… because it is what must be done. Do you know how much trouble you have caused?" The taller man edges closer, but one could see the nervousness in the shivering of his hands and the sweat on his face. Even his brother knew how much of a great warrior that Yasuo was. With a short hesitation, it pained Yone to even try to draw his blade, let alone grab the handle. It had to be done, in the name of his duty to the Ionian council.

The tongue which he spoke back in was a bit softer than his brother's. Just like Yasuo remembered. Or… if memory served him correctly - it _has_ been fifteen long years since he had ever contacted anyone at all. Simple isolation on his part; frankly he enjoyed it, leaving only death in his drunken wake.

"So many good men died to you, died to protect the balance of Ionia, to make sure none may repeat your mistake. And yet, this is what you do? Try to justify your crimes, brother?" Yone spoke, his brow furrowed and tone as friendly as possible, trying to get information. To hide his true feelings, his fist was clenched as a reminder not to burst out.

"Balance? Do not make me laugh." The younger ronin took his last bottle of sake and savors his last drink, before he threw it into the air and smashed it to bits with the blunt edge of his drawn scabbard. Blade already in hand, he prepared for battle. The moment the shattered clay pieces fell to the floor, the edge of the katana was pointing into his brother's chest. "If you wish to follow in the path of those foolish enough, then so be I will not be so hesitant to cut you down. I'd rather die a traitor than confess to a crime that I did not commit."

They walked closer, face to face. Both of them were ready to meet their death. For now, they sheathed their blades and bow, courtesy of a battle to come.

"I am truly sorry, Yone, but you are making a huge mistake here. I am far too lost to be brought back." Yasuo shook his head, slowly assuming a battle stance. "Do not risk your life over something so trivial. Let's talk over a few glasses of sake, just like good old t- wait… you don't drink anyway." He shakes his head.

"Don't be." The brother smiled wryly, but Yasuo could not see the genuine emotion behind it. "If anything, I'd rather die by your blade, knowing that I reached out to you." He gets ready for battle as well. "But… the only lingering doubt is that the Elder was killed by a wind technique. I do not see who else it could be but you, brother."

What? A wind technique? No… that could not be. He was out on the battlefield for sure when the elder had died - nor would he ever raise his blade to use a wind technique on a frail swordsman like he. The sentence ringed and echoed out in his mind, and he tried to collect his thoughts – lest he be distracted in the middle of such a fateful duel. Yet, he could not perish the thought of any other Ionian using a wind technique for assassination. It nagged him from the bottom of his heart – but his answers should be found soon enough. Or so he hoped.

The two slowly edged away from each other, staring intently. All their training and experience lead to this battle. Yasuo didn't know what to do in this situation. He was ready to throw his life, sure, but not take from those that mattered to him most. Cutting down his only lifelong friend was beyond him, he couldn't bear the thought. Wouldn't it be better if they just ran away? Together? Did they really have to go through with killing each other? For now, words were beyond their grasp – reason a distant promise.

Silence broke, and their stances were ready… and when the leaf in the wind dropped to the ground at last, a single clash of steel made sparks fly.

There was nothing. Just two men standing with their backs against each other's. Both of them seemed to sheathe their respective blades at the same time, before standing straight up.

Who else that could have emerged victorious but the better swordsman? Yasuo watched as the only man left in his life that could amend everything… slowly flop down to the ground, blood splaying and making a pool on the ground. The steel clanked onto the ground, but amidst it all… he could see his brother smile through to the very end. A peaceful face that he would part this world with.

No… no! What had he done? This was not how it was supposed to be!He really had only wished to give his brother a small injury, not kill him! Were those words of scorn and pure arrogance really going to be his last? He slowly crouched down over his brother's lifeless body, and did nothing but grasp his brother's hand in his. In his heart, he professed his last innocent pleas and cried softly into his brother's bloody chest.

He took a bit of blood from his wrist and some from his brother, he mixed it together and took a drink. Bitter and metallic, but it was the only way he could live knowing that he would remain his brother for time to come. The bond that held the two together has not broken even over the many years – or so that's what he thought. That's what he wanted to think. A little ritual that would help keep him sane – that's what others would call it.

The sun was just rising, over the horizon of the cliff. Watching it spread its ray of light over the land, he took his brother's cold corpse into his arms, carrying it over onto the small pinnacle. The light blinded his teary eyes and it took him a while to recover from it. In the midst of all that, what revealed before him was a chasm dividing his side of the cliff from a verdant forest. Not that it mattered much to him, but was it no a fitting place to bury an honorable warrior?

He made a solemn silent promise - that he would not let his brother's death go in vain.

_You will see brother. I will find who truly killed the elder. You have already left me the greatest gift I could ask for - regret, resolve, and a final clue to who it could be. I'll do it. I will avenge you for sure._

Using his bare hands, he clawed and scraped a small hole, taking some time to finish it with broken nails and dirtied fingers. He took his brother's corpse into the hole, and buried it with a mound of dirt, before sticking his brother's blade into the cliff as a tomb marker. With a prayer, some vows, and goodbyes… he could only say sorry as he turned his back and left. Left to seek the truth. And by the divine, would he find the truth – by whatever cost it took!


End file.
